Unfolding
by Delsch89
Summary: Azhyra's a female Khajiit who's thrown into an uncertain life in Skyrim. Luckily for her, the Companions in Whiterun may provide a new way of life.


**This story is based on my Khajiit character. It is basically her introduction. Very, very mild spoilers from the start of the game, as in fact I'd hardly call it spoilers. My sources are the game itself, as well as the wikia, since I havn't played any other Elder Scrolls games. So my knowledge of languages/lore/races is what I've read and some improvising. **

**Skyrim belongs to Bethesda. My character belongs to me.  
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><p>The tree branches above them barely held leaves, and the few that remained were glimmering golden in the morning sun. The rest of the birches were seemingly lifeless as the approaching winter was making itself felt, even in the lower regions of Skyrim. Faint traces of snow were already abundant around them, but it wasn't fully covering the ground yet. The stone road ahead of them was yet clear to see and the cold air tolerable enough for their kind.<p>

The Khajiits didn't belong in Skyrim, with its cold weather and unwelcoming people. The feline race wasn't appreciated anywhere outside their own land really, due to their unfortunate rumor of being thieves. Not everyone enjoyed thievery, least of all these four Khajiit and their horse. Two of them were merchants while the other two were obviously guards with all the armor and weapons they carried.

The male one walked with the air of a warrior, stoic and certain. His long fur was brown, with several rings attached to his long ears and the beard from his chin was wrapped in thin leather stripes. The beard had a grey tone to it and his bright green eyes seemed a bit duller than before, as his youth was slowly leaving him. His forehead had the stripes of a tiger, painted in white color. The iron armor he wore was old and worn well, with marks from many battles and much travel. The scabbard on his back was holding a great sword in place, the delicate design of silver tigers on its handle.

The second guard was a female and much younger than him. Wearing leather armor and two smaller, ordinary swords on her back, it was obvious that she was making use of her kind's natural agility and speed. No scars or paints covered her black and grey fur and the only decoration she had was a silver ring in her left ear. Her eyes, red with a mix of yellow around the narrow pupil, were sharp and focused, as she kept an eye on their surroundings.

The two male merchants between them were brothers, sharing the same golden fur color that seemed to melt into their similar colored leather tunics and trousers. And unlike the guards they weren't paying any attention to anything around them, happily chatting among themselves with smiles and laugher. The thing they mostly kept an eye on was the brown horse pulling the simple, two wheeled wagon containing the heavier supplies.

"Azhyra!" the male guard called out suddenly, glancing over his shoulder briefly. He looked forward again when she had joined his side, giving him an inquiring look. There was humble respect in her eyes, as well as eager curiosity, much like a student would watch its master's every move and listen to every word.

"How many potential dangers have you seen on this road so far?" he asked her, scratching his cheek lazily. His accent was the same as most Khajiit, a flowing one, but heavily influenced by their original language. Azhyra looked around briefly, her brow furrowed in thought.

"One, Mirhar," she said. "A bear awhile back but it was heading the other direction so I didn't think it was worth bringing up." Unlike him her accent was barely heard at all.

"We've passed three threats altogether," he continued. "The bear, like you mentioned, but also a sabre cat and a pack of wolves."

"Oh…" Azhyra said, looking down at once on the road, visibly awkward since her ears fell down to the sides of her head.

"You need to learn to keep all your senses alert, child," he continued, pointing to his ears and eyes. "Luckily, the wild life in Skyrim seems more well-fed than back in Elsweyr. Less prone to attack."

"Yes, master," Azhyra nodded sternly, her ears perking up again now. "I will improve on that."

"Good."

Mirhar reached down to the side of his belt, pulling up a worn, rolled together map of Skyrim. He unfolded it in front of him, giving it a few moments' worth of looking before folding it together again.

"We're getting closer to Whiterun," he said loud enough for the two brothers behind them to hear too. Two pair of yellow eyes watched him before the brothers looked at each other.

"Good place for trade, yes?" one of them asked eagerly.

"Unless they throw us right out," the other muttered. "Nords are cranky people. The bump on my head from the last stop still hurts."

"Tasty apples they throw though."

"That inn only had inbred Nords in it," Azhyra frowned.

"Azhyra…" Mirhar frowned displeased at her, but this time she only shrugged faintly.

"True, if you ask me, the way they treated outsiders…" she continued in a more quiet tone.

"Skyrim has a suspicious people… comes from the civil war brewing here," Mirhar sighed. "That's why it's important we keep these trade lines alive. Azhyra, resume your place at the rear of the group. And remember, all senses," he continued, pointing at her ears. She tilted her head once before doing as told, as the brothers returned to the chatting amongst themselves too.

The weather was going to get worse very soon, as they had a smaller mountain to get through before they reached the plains around Whiterun. It was always snowing in most of the mountains in Skyrim, even if it wasn't always in the rest of it. The road they had to take was the fastest to Whiterun from the south, but also the most treacherous. Just after an hour on that mountain, the Khajiit and their horse were basically covered in snow, since it was falling hard here. The horse didn't have any problems, being the tough breed that the Nords there used.

Mirhar was holding his arm in front of his face to try and avoid most of the snow getting into his eyes, but it was difficult with the speed it was falling. It also hindered his main job on this trip, keeping the others safe. Even if he had a lot of faith in Azhyra, she was just a youngling, still learning from his experiences. They all had wrapped cloth around their necks and heads, hoping to ward off the cold as much as possible. Their fur didn't help as much as one would think since they hailed from warmer lands. Azhyra still held the rear of the group, making sure to look over her shoulder frequently enough. It was perfect weather to sneak up on a traveling caravan after all.

One of the brothers was holding a lantern by now, in addition to the one hanging from the wagon behind them. It provided with much needed light, since the sun didn't have a chance to appear in the stormy clouds above them. Pine trees surrounded them by now and the few other trees that were up here, lacked the warm glow of autumn leaves. Dark and bared to the weather, these trees just looked foreboding. A wolf howled nearby, startling Azhyra as she looked in the direction. It had been far off though and since Mirhar had barely glanced in the direction, she didn't pay it more attention either afterwards.

She wondered how well the brothers fared in this weather, since they were the new arrivals to Skyrim. Mirhar had been there for over ten years, having taken Azhyra under her wing when she was but an abandoned younger child. She didn't remember much of the time before that, but she knew her parents had also belonged to a caravan that had been slaughtered by bandits. That had been back when Skyrim hadn't been under such threats as war and Khajiit and other outsiders were less welcomed in the land than now. Azhyra held no anger towards Skyrim and its people because of that. It had been such a long time ago and she could hardly grieve what she didn't remember. All she did was keep her parents' names in memory. Mirhar was her master now, teaching her the art of fighting and his memories since he had found her were now hers too. The now was all that mattered.

A loud thumping noise in the distance interrupted her thoughts, as she quickly returned to actually keeping watch. The feeling of being startled she didn't much enjoy, as her heart rate had already gone up now. Mirhar had also reacted further off, looking upwards suddenly. The noise continued, more rapidly now and it was definitely coming from the sky. It wasn't until a large shadow covered them for a moment, that Mirhar was certain something was happening. A roar followed, echoing between the mountain sides, as the shape of a winged beast was obvious against the grey sky.

"By _Alkosh_, it's a dragon…" Mirhar said suddenly, his ears falling flat along his head, his green eyes widening in shock. "Keep moving! Maybe it's just passing by!" he ordered the others with bared, sharp teeth.

Azhyra abandoned her post in the back, running up to Mirhar quickly with an eye on the sky.

"A dragon? They don't exist anymore," she said carefully, still in awe over the fact that it might have been a dragon. It was shocking too though, and she knew Mirhar were just as shocked too. He only mentioned the Khajiit god he worshipped when he could find no other word.

"They don't," Mirhar said firmly, keeping his gaze strictly ahead of them. The roar was heard again, closer this time, as well as the thudding sounds of large wings flapping. The shadow returned and upon a look over their shoulders, it was clear that the dragon wasn't just passing by. It was hovering in the air behind them, just next to the pine trees, slowly beating its wings to keep airborne and its jaws slightly open. Within moments it had opened its jaws, a ball of fire erupting from its mouth. It hit the ground right behind the wagon with such force that the wagon tipped over, forcing the horse over to its side as well. The animal immediately tried to get back up again, neighing in panic, as the wooden wagon was now on fire.

By the time anyone had recovered from the shock, the dragon had already swooped over them, roaring loudly. Azhyra was the first to react, rushing over to the horse that was still struggling to stand up properly, hindered by the ropes that tied it to the wagon. She unsheathed one of the swords on her back to cut off the ropes, resulting in the animal standing up, before it reared up, almost kicking one of the brothers to the side. Azhyra grabbed the remains of the ropes still tied to the horse's equipment to pull it back down, before she looked up to the sky as the thudding noise returned. A sharp inhale followed, before the ground around them literally exploded.

Azhyra was pulled down with the horse to the ground, barely avoiding being crushed by it in the process and her head was ringing from the impact. Everything around her seemed to be made of fire at the moment and she was fairly sure she saw a burning body further off, lying lifeless on the road. Now she started to share the horse's panic, as the situation really came into her mind. The dragon was after their lives. How did you defeat something that was supposedly extinct?

A figure was running through the fire of the wagon suddenly, and she recognized Mirhar fairly fast, as he bent down next to her. The leather straps on his armor were colored black now, from the patted out fire and she was sure she saw blood on his arm too. He was speaking to her but the ringing was still in her head, coupled with the crackling noise from the fire. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of smoke and burned flesh.

"Get up, child! We need to leave now." Finally she could actually hear his words, as he dragged her up on her feet. "No, it's coming back…" Mirhar muttered in near anguish as the thudding sound came back. The ground under them shook again, but this time it was the dragon itself that caused it. It had landed right on top of the debris, maybe to feast on whatever was left in the remains. It reared its long neck and head upon the sight of them before it moved down from the burning wagon, using its wings as front legs. Mirhar unsheathed the sword from his back, pulling it up in front of him.

His narrowed eyes moved to the side briefly, spotting the horse that stood up again and then on Azhyra who stood slightly behind him, staring at the dragon in shock.

"Azhyra, take the horse and get out of here," he told her, looking over his shoulder briefly, as the dragon slowly walked closer, making every step carefully as if it didn't much like walking on the ground instead of flying.

"What? I'm not abandoning you!" she protested, finding the former fresh mountain air hard to breathe now with all the smoke around.

"You're not, you're just leaving," he said firmly, but there wasn't much time for talk as the dragon lunged forward, its massive head trying to take hold of the stubborn Khajiit facing it. Mirhar turned the sword up just in time, blocking the jaws trying to lock around him but the blow had pushed him back a good bit on the ground. The second after Mirhar turned the sword to the side, gaining enough room to stick it inside the dragon's mouth. The bloodied sword penetrated the side of the beast's mouth, causing it to rear up with its front body, shrieking in pain. The sword had almost left Mirhar's grip at the sudden recoil and it had taken a lot of strain on his arms to pull it back before the dragon had moved away. So much that it was now hard to just keep the sword upright. With teeth bared he kept his eyes fixed on the dragon, until he noticed that Azhyra wasn't near him anymore. He had hoped she had listened to him but he wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't, considering she was incredibly stubborn. The horse was gone by now though, so maybe she had in fact left.

He realized how wrong he had been when the dragon suddenly turned around, nearly hitting him with its tail. He dodged it by jumping backwards, landing on his knees though and using his tail to keep his balance. Azhyra was literally on top of the dragon's back, having stabbed both her swords in its back. The beast flailed around, roaring in pain and anger before one of its wings managed to throw Azhyra off its back. Unfortunately for it, the swords still remained in its back, lodged in to their hilts. The dragon stopped moving though, ignoring the weapons for now, as it focused its attention on Azhyra who was lying on the ground next to Mirhar, although she stood up quickly, her fangs bared in anger.

"_Dii, jaar!"_

Neither of them had expected actual words from the dragon, as it literally spoke before breathing another fireball at them. It was impossible to dodge and both were thrown to the sides of the road. There was hardly anything left of the road now, as the fireball had pretty much blown it up. Pieces of rock had fallen all over the place, before the ground shook again as the dragon moved back down on the road, searching for its prey. The swords in its back didn't seem to even hinder its movement, let alone cause it pain.

Azhyra rolled over to her stomach since she had been on her back in the snow, to the side of the road. Her whole body was throbbing with pain and her arm felt like it was burning. At a quick glance there, she noticed the fur had been burned off, revealing the black skin beneath, although now it was red with seared flesh. Her face felt warm and she saw the blood in the snow where her face had been.

Something happened ahead as she worked her way up on her knees, basically crawling back towards the road. She stopped abruptly as the dragon reared up in the fire, the red light reflecting onto its chest and neck, enough to reveal the figure it held between its jaws, blood dripping from it to the ground.

"Mirhar!" Azhyra cried out, her eyes widening as the older Khajiit; despite being stuck between the beast's jaws, managed to swing the great sword in his hands around, throwing it straight into the dragon's chest. It roared, swinging and stumbling around, throwing Mirhar away beyond Azhyra's sight with brutal force. Before she could react, the dragon's tail came flying, hitting her right in the chest, with such force that she flew back several meters, right into a tree.

This time she didn't have the strength to even get up, her body refusing any movements. All she could feel was her mind slipping away, in the cold snow, soothed by the golden flames in what felt like a mile away.

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><p>The sound of crackling fire and its golden light followed Azhyra through her mind, as she opened her eyes next, blinking up at a wooden roof. She sat up abruptly, wincing though as everything hurt, especially her chest and arm and she fell back down again, grimacing in pain. Instead she turned her head around, wondering where the hell she was. Everything felt so damn blurry and the torches on the wall unsettled her for some reason. She turned fully around, feeling the thick furs under her before she looked properly to the walls. There were paintings and book filled shelves in the small but well-furnished room. When she saw the carpets on the floor, plus everything else really, she realized it wasn't a poor farmer's house she was in at the moment. Everything was too luxurious for that, or perhaps she simply didn't know better.<p>

She closed her eyes for a moment, annoyed at how blurry her mind felt. The images that popped up were disturbing; all fire and death. She could almost feel the scent of burned flesh and smoke in her nostrils. Grunting, she ignored the pain when sitting up in the bed, clutching her bandaged arm. She still wore her leather armor and she was surprised to see it quite whole despite what she now recalled having gone through.

"Mirhar," she muttered in an agonized tone, looking around to find the door to the room. She had to get out… find the place of the attack. Dragon or not, she didn't know what had fully happened to Mirhar, since he had fallen beyond her view. He could still be alive, left alone out on the mountain. Unless whoever's house she was in, had found him and tended to him as well. Hissing in pain, she moved up from the bed and staggered towards the door, pushing it open with her left hand. It was heavier than she had expected, as well as creaky.

It led out to an even larger, long room, just as widely decorated as the one she had just left. The only difference was that this one had someone in it. A male with shoulder long, black hair and black markings around his clear blue eyes. He wore worn steel armor and a large sword was leaning against the comfortable chair he sat on. Considering his rugged appearance, he was most likely a Nord, so Azhyra automatically became cautious, despite her condition, especially when he stood up the moment she opened the door. Her ears folded back and her eyes narrowed as he approached her and she prepared to defend herself in some manner, whether verbally or physically.

"You're awake. Good," he said, even his voice sounding rugged. "After what you've been through I'm surprised you made it. Perhaps you're sturdier than you look." Azhyra gave him a long look, not having expected any amount of kindness from someone like him, least of all a compliment. He was scratching the stubble on his cheek as she actually struggled with finding a proper answer, until he seemed to tire of her silence.

"You probably got questions…" he said. "I'll get Kodlak. He is better at talking than I am. Stay here."

With those words, he reached for the massive sword behind him, sheathing it over his back and walking through the long room. He entered another room at the other end, leaving Azhyra standing where she was, confused and exhausted frankly. Wherever she was, it didn't seem to be bandits of any sort and at the moment she couldn't risk trying to breaking out, if she was even locked in to start with. Gritting her teeth in pain she walked back into her room, leaning to the desk in there with her hands to catch her breath, before she saw the silver platter and mug on it. Frowning, she lifted up the platter, using its shiny surface as a mirror, to see why her face was stinging the way it was.

Right over the brink of her flat nose, there was a clear, red scar, which would explain the blood and dizziness. Upon closer thought about the battle with the dragon, it had to be one of the flakes from the exploding rock. She should have felt happy over the fact that the flake hadn't pierced her head altogether, but she felt little at the moment, except impatience. She dropped the plate back on the desk, putting her hand over the bandage on her arm. By all rights, she shouldn't be alive at all. If not to her wounds, then the dragon should at least have gone after her.

"Good morning, Khajiit," an elderly voice came from the door suddenly and she pushed away from the desk slowly, her tail swaying in slow anxiety. The Nord standing in the door wasn't all that different from the first, except the age. This was an old man, with a long, grey beard and hair. But he seemed just as armored as the other, but then all Nords seemed to have that in common. Weapons and armor. He was peering at her, almost thoughtfully, which unnerved her a bit.

"How… what am I doing here?" Azhyra finally asked, realizing her voice was actually hoarse.

"That's a good question," the man said as he gestured for her to sit back down in the bed, as he sat down on a chair next to the desk, leaning his right lower arm on his knee. "Khajiits usually aren't allowed inside Whiterun, but your condition and situation is… well, let's say it's different from the norm. Not many get attacked by a dragon and survive to tell the tale."

"_My_ situation?" Azhyra asked dismally, looking away briefly. "There were three more with me on that road." She didn't care about the sorrowful look on the man's face, as he sat up properly.

"I'm sorry to say that… your companions were killed during the attack," he said slowly. "We found three bodies, charred by the dragon's fire breath."

Azhyra closed her eyes firmly, her ears falling flat along her head again, at finally knowing her companion's fate. While she grieved for the brothers, what hurt the most was the loss of Mirhar, her mentor and only stable hold in this harsh world. She opened her eyes again, placing her hands on her knees to give her chest more room to actually breathe, which seemed difficult now.

"It might not be a solace now, but you're lucky to be here, child," he continued. "Let alone still alive. It was just mere chance that we even found you, since you were further away from the spot than anyone else."

"You're right. It's no solace," Azhyra said, her tone sharp and her teeth almost bared for a second. "They didn't deserve that kind of death. It was… too soon."

"We do not choose when or how we die, child, only how we deal with death staring us down. The same counts for us left behind. Grieve for them, but don't let their deaths effect your life. They're in a better place now."

"They were the only ones I had, it'll effect my life whether I want to or not. I got no more guiding in this life… you said it yourself. Khajiits aren't welcome here and a lone one even less."

She couldn't remember when she last was in a situation like this. There was none fresh in her memory but ten years ago when her parents had been killed. Someone had saved her from certain death back then. Mirhar wasn't around anymore so this time she was on her own…

The man was stroking his beard now, the thoughtful look still in his eyes, once she had mustered enough strength to actually look up again. Death was expected in a land like Skyrim but not to a dragon. And the old man had a point… Mirhar had gone down fighting, like a real warrior. More than she had… granted, she hadn't died.

"So…" she said, trying to look neutral but it was hard to hide emotions when her ears betrayed basically everything. "I'm surprised the dragon wasn't around. We caused it great harm. Twin swords into its back and a great sword through its chest…"

"There was a lot of blood among the debris and fire. Even if the dragon didn't perish on the site, it's possible it flew off and died somewhere less open. I believe the Jarl will send out scouts to see to the area, if they can find any tracks."

"Right… I suppose I should thank you for… this," she said, gesturing over the bandages she had. "I should take my leave though before you get in trouble on my behalf."

"You're not fit to go anywhere," the man shook his head. "Where would you go anyway? As I recall you didn't have anywhere to go."

"I don't. But I have nowhere to stay either," she frowned.

The man stood up, folding his arms across his chest.

"I should probably have introduced myself from the start," he said casually. "I am Kodlak Whitemane. A Companion."

"Companion? From _the_ Companions?" Azhyra asked, looking a bit surprised despite feeling overall empty of emotions. She had heard of that order of fighters, as most had in Skyrim, but she hadn't expected ever meeting a member. Let alone be in their headquarters, which she assumed this was. It would certainly explain the luxury.

"Correct. I got a good feeling about you, child, and not just because you survived a dragon attack. Several of our members are people who didn't have elsewhere to go."

"This… is rather surprising," Azhyra admitted. "Would you even accept me among your order?" At the moment, she didn't want to be alone out in the wilderness of Skyrim and she'd probably not have many other chances to actually enter a town again in the nearest future. Fighting was what she had trained for all her life after all.

"As long as you can fight. We'd still need to test if, of course, but basic skills are needed. Judging by your clothing, I'd say you're aware of said basic skills. But I can understand I am bringing this up at a difficult time. You can think it over for a while, if you need to, and come to terms with your grief. Just know that you may still have a place to go and not just to help us. We're a family here… we look out for each other."

He turned towards the door in the room, pausing though as he looked back at her again.

"What's your name?" he asked. The Khajiit looked at him, thoughtful but still obvious in pain, whether it was physical or mental pain.

"Azhyra," she replied.

"Well then, Azhyra. Rest for the night here. You have everything you need in here and in the morning, I'll send in one of the maids to help you with your bandages. I'll also talk to you tomorrow."

With that Kodlak left the room, shutting the door after him. Normally she wouldn't like being left alone but right now…it was probably for the best. She had a lot to take in and think about. There was food and drink on the desk as well, but she had no will to make use of either. Her body was still hurting and to be honest, she felt like a bit of her soul was forever lost. For the second time in her life.

She pulled up her legs onto the bed, her long tail curing around her, as she rested her arms on her knees. In the middle of a town, in the house of well-seasoned fighters and she hadn't felt more alone.

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><p>Sleep had been difficult to find, and Azhyra wasn't even sure what time of the day it was when she heard a knock on the door. Probably morning considering what Kodlak had told her the day before, why else would someone knock now.<p>

"Miss? I'm here to help you with your wounds," a female voice came from the other side of the door, before it was opened and an old woman stepped through, dressed in yellow and brown clothes.

"Hello, dear," she greeted the Khajiit properly now, while smiling. "My name's Tilma."

She didn't really wait for an answer as she walked up to the desk with a bowl of water in her hands. She then pulled a chair between the desk and the bed, sitting down in front of Azhyra who only watched her. Tilma grabbed her bandaged arm, unwrapping the cloth there slowly. Once the red and stinging skin was revealed, she dipped another piece of cloth into the water bowl to clean up the wound.

"I heard what you've been through, dear. Attacked by a dragon. I can't even imagine the horror…" she continued.

"I still can't," the Khajiit finally said dismally, looking away briefly. "You work here, I take it?"

"Yes. Been here for so many years now that I've lost count," Tilma smiled at the memories, working fast yet carefully around the wound. "The wounds I've taken care of, the cleaning, the cooking. They're good people, these Companions, although others might have different opinions."

"They're called a bit of everything, alright…"

"Taking contracts tends to be seen as a bad thing mostly… sometimes people forget that they also rescue people and clear out dangerous beasts."

"Hardly for free?"

"Well, no, we all need coin to survive here. But they haven't charged you for anything, have they? Farkas and Vilkas were on their way back to Whiterun when they heard the ruckus up on the mountain side. Difficult to miss a dragon, I guess. Anyway, they came back with you and here you are…"

Azhyra winced as Tilma poured a strange powder over the burn wound, before she wrapped a new set of bandages over it. Once she was done there, she immediately reached up to touch the scar on her nose. The Khajiit's nose furrowed in tension, the tail behind her swaying impatiently back and forth on the bed now.

"Ah, true to your kind," Tilma chuckled. "Apologies. That scar will last, I'm afraid. A memory, perhaps?"

"Some memory," Azhyra frowned at her.

"All memories are just that, memories. If you stay here, you'll find a lot of people with various memories, bad and good."

"I doubt I'm… Companion material."

"Kodlak seems to think so. And Kodlak is wise. He's the Companion's Harbinger after all."

"I thought they didn't have leaders."

"Well, he's not a leader per say. But he's in charge of who gets to enter the order or not. So he very well may be. Take it from a woman who's been here a long time. Kodlak hasn't been this sure about a possible recruit for ages."

Tilma got up on her feet suddenly, wiping off her hands on her skirt.

"I'll be right back with some food for you. Is there anything you prefer?" she asked kindly. Azhyra rubbed her healthy arm unsurely before shrugging.

"Anything works thanks. But… do you have any body paint in the building?"

"A few, I think," Tilma arched an eyebrow. "Since the Companions accept all races, there's a few different cultures spread here. What color?"

"Anything dark."

"Alright. I'll be right back then."

Azhyra watched the older woman leave the room again, before she got up on her feet, mostly to stretch her legs. Tilma was true to her words and did return within minutes, with a plate containing a piece of roasted salmon, as well as some bread and fruit. From one of her pockets, she produced a glass bottle with a dark red liquid in it, putting it on the desk next to the food plate.

"If there's anything else, don't hesitate to call for me. Just ask anyone in the building. Kodlak will probably visit you later too," Tilma said, smiling to the Khajiit who picked up the bottle to look at it.

"Thank you," Azhyra nodded to her, looking back at the bottle as the door shut close behind her again. She picked up the silver platter in one hand, before opening the bottle with her other, sticking her index and middle finger into it. She then lifted them to her forehead and cheeks, painting in the stripes of a tiger. The same war paint her master had used. Her black fur made a good contrast to the red, keeping the paint visible but not overdone.

If she was going to prove her worth among these strangers, she would at least look respectable. It was the only way she knew to honor Mirhar and his death.

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><p><strong>A cookie to whoever can figure out what the dragon said!<strong>

**I might or might not continue this story, since I mostly wrote this for the fun of it. Even if I do continue it, it won't be fast updates and will probably progress as my character in game does. I really don't have time to keep two fanfics updated regulary. Besides, I'd like to keep this detailed with long chapters so time's needed.**

**Thanks for reading.**


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